


Weekend at Bobby’s

by Strength_in_pain



Series: John and his boys [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awesome Bobby Singer, Bobby Singer Deals With Idjits, Gen, Happy Dean Winchester, Happy Sam Winchester, Parental Bobby Singer, Weechesters, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 04:50:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16319504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strength_in_pain/pseuds/Strength_in_pain
Summary: John drops his boys off at Bobby’s for a weekend. They have a good time being normal kids for once.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a story i’ve been working on for a while, but it slightly goes with a prompt Dean’s girl wanted to see which is when Bobby meets the boys for the first time. :) 
> 
> I think you’re gonna love this one. I know I love it.

> **Sioux Falls, South Dakota.**
> 
> Dean 13 Sam 9. 

“I still don’t see why we can’t just help you.” Dean muttered to his father from the passenger seat of the 1967 black impala. 

Sam sat in the back rolling his eyes at Dean’s remark. His older brother has been pestering his Dad for about an hour now about the same thing: a hunt. Because Dean just wants to help Dad on a hunt, but Dad was leaving them at uncle Bobby’s for the weekend. 

“I mean, if Bobby is going on a hunt and I can help him, then why can’t I help you?” Dean asked. 

“Because Dean, for the millionth time, I don’t think it’s safe for you to come with me. Bobby is hunting a werewolf. That is much easier than what I’m hunting.”  John said through clenched teeth. 

“But Dad, If Wilkins really has answers about the thing that killed mom -“

“Then I’ll deal with it.” John yelled impatiently. If Sam were Dean he would be shutting his mouth right about now. Dad was not in the mood. “I’m almost positive it’s a trap and I don’t want you or Sammy in the way.” John said bluntly. 

“But Dad, Sam and I could help.”

“No Dean. You’re staying with Bobby and that’s final.” John said. His hands on the steering wheel turned white with his almighty grip. Sam subconsciously bit his lip, wishing his brother would just give it up already, but giving up isn’t the Dean Winchester way. 

“Dad, I’ve been practicing.”

“I don’t care how good you are, Dean. I can’t do my job right if I’m worried about you. And if you were there I would be constantly checking to make sure you’re okay.” Dean looked like a dog ready to attack, “Now, you can help Bobby with his hunt or you can focus on school work and sports like your brother. Either way, you are not coming on his hunt with me. Clear?” 

Dean huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting like a four-year-old.  “I don’t even play school sports.”

“Then work on the cars. I know you love to do that.” John countered, voice softer now that Dean was thinking about substitute options. Sam nodded. Dean loved working on cars. If he couldn’t be with Dad, he’d prefer to be under a junk car, fixing it up. 

“Fine.” Dean huffed, “but if you change your mind about the hunt, I would be happy to go with you.” 

John chuckled, “I know you would, Ace. But this one just ain’t for you.” 

The black impala pulled up a dirt road to a farm-like house at the Singer Salvage Yard. Bobby, with his blue baseball cap, was waiting for the family on the front steps. 

“Good to see you boys again.” Bobby greeted them with a warm, bone-crushing hug. 

Sam and Dean both clung to the man for a few minutes, soaking in his beer smelling shirt. It was so comforting it was easy to forget that hugging for too long was considered awkward and girly. When Bobby stiffened, both boys pulled away with goofy grins. 

“It’s good to see you too Uncle Bobby.” Sam said, looking up to Bobby with his soft, doe eyes. 

“Does your daddy need help with anything before he goes?”

“Don’t think so.” Sam said. At the same time, Dean had said, “you’ll have to ask him.” Bobby quirked an eyebrow at Dean’s bitter tone. He quickly noticed the frown and defiant stance of the older boy. 

John walked over with two duffle bags slung over his shoulders. “Do you boys need anything else from the car? Get it now if you do.”

“No sir.” Came the two automatic responses. 

John nodded and carried the bags inside Bobby’s house. He walked right past, without even acknowledging Bobby. 

“Hello to you too.” Bobby said, following John inside. 

“I don’t have time. I need to go interview this witness. Keep them safe. Make sure they train twice a day. Don’t let Sammy play soccer unless he’s finished his training. Dean can help you with the werewolf case, if you want. He’s been itching for some action. And honestly, the kid is pretty good.” 

When Dean smiled brightly at his father’s words, Sam rolled his eyes dramatically. This earned him a shove from Dean. The boys started a shoving contest, which turned into a punching contest, until John stepped between the two. 

“They need medicine for a chest infection they are both fighting off. Dean knows what to do, so don’t worry about it. And as always, if they give you any trouble, just tan them.” 

Dean and Sam both rolled their eyes at that one. The very first time they met Bobby, he was a wreak around kids. Honestly, Bobby was probably more afraid of the two little boys than he was of any demon. He expressed his worries to John, asking what to do with them. What do they eat? Can they understand simple commands? How should he control them. What if they get jelly on their hands and make the house sticky. What if they scream loudly or jump off the furniture? What if they color all over the walls or worse, his case notes? 

John’s answer had been simple. “My kids are well-behaved. They rarely do things like that. But they never do things like that with strangers.” Bobby had been unconvinced. “They’re two toddlers, Singer. All they do is play, eat, and sleep. You’ll be fine. Feed ‘em a sandwich and give ‘em some army men or books.” 

“And if they ruin my books?” 

 “If they give you any grief just tan them. They won’t do it again.”

The look on Bobby’s face was priceless. It was like someone popped him with a needle and he deflated. 

“I can’t...I mean, they’re just a couple of kids, John. Ain’t like they know any better.” Bobby said scratching his neck. 

“So you teach them. That’s what you do with a couple of kids that won’t behave.” John winked. “But you should have that problem.” He turned towards the impala where his two son’s were hiding behind the car. “Isn’t that right, Dean?” 

Dean wasn’t even seven yet, when this whole incident happened. He poked his tiny head from behind the shelter of the impala and whispered a very soft yes sir. Bobby could see from where he was standing how scared the little boy was. He was trembling from head to toe, gripping his baby brother’s hand tightly in his own. The two-year-old was hiding behind Dean’s legs, looking ready to cry. 

“What’s wrong with ‘em?” Bobby whispered. 

John furrowed his eyebrows together, then looked over his shoulder at the kids. “Oh. They’re probably just scared you’ll be a big ‘ole asshole. After all, some of the hunters I leave them with, do not like little kids.” 

Bobby puffed his chest out, “I’m one of those people you idjit!”

John shrugged, “I guess they have a right to be scared then, huh?” And Bobby hated John Winchester, because damnit that man was laughing at him. He knew Bobby was going to be soft around his boys. It pissed Bobby off. 

“Damn right they do. I won’t put up with any bull.” 

John nodded, with a smirk and Bobby had agreed to what John said, but the second he laid eyes on the scared little kid, in beat up sneakers, Bobby swore to himself that he would never lay a hand on that boy. He made the same promise for Sam once he got to know that little rascal. It turned out the boys were complete angels when they were young. Bobby was worrying about nothing. He fell in love with the boys after spending an hour with them and he felt bitter when John came back to take them away. 

Now, however, Dean was thirteen and Sam was nine. They were much more opinionated and sassy at this age. Mainly Dean, but Sam had his moments. Still, Bobby couldn’t see himself hurting the boys. And damn did those two know it. 

“Yeah, Yeah. I’ve watched them before, I know what to do.” Bobby said. John nodded his head, then turned to his kids. He gave them each a quick hug and told them to behave. 

“Dad, you can still change your mind.” Dean said hopefully. 

“Sorry Ace.” John said, “not this time.” He gave them both one last hug, then he left them alone with Bobby. 

“So, you wanted to join you’re Daddy on his hunt, huh?” 

“How’d you know?” Dean asked. 

Bobby shrugged, “I can read into things. I ain’t blind.” 

Dean nodded solemnly. “It’s ok, though. I don’t really care if I help him or not.” 

Sam snorted, “Oh that’s hilarious.” 

“Shut up.” Sam jumped at the smack he received on the back of his head. 

“Ow!” He yelled, kicking Dean’s shin. 

“You little bitch!” Dean screamed, launching at Sam and gripping him around the waist. 

Sam bent over and stumbled around like a maimed animal. “Get off me, Jerk!” 

Bobby shook his head and sighed. What the hell did he get himself into. 

“Boys, if you want something to eat I suggest you quit fighting like a bunch of wild animals and get some grub.” 

Dean and Sam broke it up at some point and they casually walked into the kitchen as if they weren’t about to beat the hell out of each-other. 

“Dean, grab the onion and start cutting. Sam, set the table.” Bobby ordered, while bringing over a bouquet of red roses to the sink. Washing off the flowers, Bobby filled a vase with water. 

“Wow... I never thought of you as the type for flowers.” Dean said, raising an eyebrow. He nearly sliced his finger when he chopped down with the knife. Turning his full attention to the onion, Dean didn’t notice Bobby’s sad face. 

“They came in real good this year. These were my wife’s favorite.” He whispered. 

“Oh yeah? How long were ya married?” Dean asked for pure curiosities sake. 

“We’re still married in here.” Bobby said pointing a finger to his heart. “But not long enough.” 

Dean’s soft green eyes picked up on Bobby’s pained expression. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. 

“Ain’t nothing to be sorry for, boy. Not your fault.” Bobby laughed uneasily, putting the vase of flowers on the center of the rustic table. “Sometimes I step outside at night and try to have a little chat with Karen. I guess I’m just a foolish old man.” 

Dean stood completely still, as if he were frozen in time, thinking about something in his mind. Sam sat at the table, unsure of what to say. He waited for a response from his big brother. Typically Dean was the one who called all the shots, but Dean wasn’t doing anything. It was as if he were lost in his own thoughts. 

“You’re not foolish.” Sam whispered, finally, but Bobby didn’t acknowledge that he heard Sam. Instead, he walked over to the cabinets and grabbed some glasses. Dean went back to cutting the onion so Sam resumed setting the table. _I guess we’re just gonna pretend that conversation never happened,_ Sam thought bitterly. Things like that happened too many times with his father and brother. It annoyed Sam to no end sometimes because all he wanted was some answers. But pushing and prying was never the way to go. Not unless you want someone stomping out of the room. 

Bobby sat at the head of the table, but unlike John, he was a joyous story-teller. With every juicy steak he served up there was a cheesy joke at it’s side. He recounted stories from his younger years or sometimes his grandparents stories. But no matter what the story, there was a punch line, which would inevitably draw a loud laugh from the two boys. 

Bobby noticed the amulet around Dean’s neck and briefly wondered why Sam chose to give the gift to his older brother and not his father. It looked good on the teen boy. Bobby had to admit, Dean was really starting to look like a young man, but he was still waiting for a growth spurt because as of now he was still very short. But Dean’s biceps were growing larger by the day. And his chest was wider as well. 

“All I’m saying is invisibility would be awesome! I mean, think of all the ladies shower rooms you could visit.” Dean laughed at his brother’s bright red face. 

“That’s a waste of a superpower, Dean!”

“You would think so, how many girls have you been with again?” 

“How many girls have you been with?” Sam shot back. 

It was Dean’s turn to blush. “Well what superpower would you wish for then?” 

“Easy, I’d choose super strength.” Sam said. 

Dean rolled his eyes, “that’s got to be the worst one yet!”

“Why? If I’m strong I can do what I want. No one can boss me around. Plus, I could beat-up anyone. Even monsters.”

“Bobby, help me out.” Dean said. “Please tell the kid that super-strength is not the best super power.”

“Yeah Bobby, what’s your opinion?”

Bobby leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms. “Oh I don’t know. Personally I think superpowers are overrated. When it comes down to it, all you got is your own energy and persistence. It’s not superpowers that are going to help you. But it’s finding the best outcome in an impossible situation. Isn’t that what superhero’s really are? They are the tough people who don’t let difficult times get the best of them, but rather adapt and become stronger. A hero doesn’t have to be an enhanced human being; a hero can be an ordinary person that makes it their responsibility to make a difference in somebody else’s life and are set on inspiring others.”

“Damn.” Dean said. He was listening intently to what Bobby was saying as was Sam. “You know, for an old man, you’re pretty smart.”

Bobby smirked, “and for a strong young man, you’re sure are a smart ass.”

Dean’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, “Thanks.” 

After dinner, Bobby headed out to the garage with Dean on his tail. The older boy was wildly interested in cars and happy to help repair them. He needed Bobby’s help still, but Dean knew quite a lot about cars for a young thirteen-year-old. 

Sam, on the other hand, didn’t care so much about cars. He was more interested in reading the books on Bobby’s bookshelf. And boy did Bobby have a lot. Bobby specifically bought certain books just for Sam. Even though Sam was only nine, he absolutely loved reading long novels. He curled himself up on the couch and began reading. 

An hour or two later, Bobby and Dean returned back to the house with two greasy white tank tops. Sam had to keep himself from laughing when he saw a large black streak of dirt across Dean’s forehead. 

“Hi’ya Sammy? Did you have fun while we were gone?” Dean asked, as he plopped on the couch, right next to his brother. 

“Yeah, I got through five chapters already.” Sam said, holding out his book. 

Dean looked at the front cover with curiosity. “Of Love And Shadows? Is that like, a romance novel?” 

“Yeah, kinda. It’s about two lovers who are prepared to risk everything for the sake of justice and truth. Cause this story is set in a country of arbitrary arrests and there are  sudden disappearances. That’s what makes it so fascinating.” Sam explained. 

“Are there any sex scenes?” 

“Dean!” The younger of the two, shoved his brother off the couch. “You’re such a perv!”

“Right back atcha bitch.” 

“Boys, you got showers to be getting” 

“Yes sir.” Dean mumbled, still preoccupied with messing up Sam’s hair. 

It didn’t take long for Dean and Sam to stop messing around and get to business. Normally, if Bobby was John, then they wouldn’t have any time at all to play around. But Bobby knew what the meaning of patience was, even if he didn’t have much. He still had more patience than John Winchester. 

Dean grabbed his and Sam’s duffle bag from behind Bobby’s desk, then took it upstairs. 

“I’m assuming we sleep in the same room, correct?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. I only have one spare bedroom with a single bed. So you two can have my king sized bed, that is, if you two still don’t mind sleeping together?” 

“No sir, we can sleep together. But if you want your bed, I could sleep on the couch and Sammy could get the single guest bed.”

“There’s no need for you to sleep on the couch, boy. I don’t mind the guest bed at all. You two sleep together.” 

Dean nodded. Dumping his duffle bag on the floor, Dean began to rummage through the pile of stuff. He had a bunch of clothes, mainly t-shirts and jeans. Some white tank-tops and a lot of briefs and boxers. Bobby expected those items, but he was suprised to see Dean had a deck of cards in this bag, and a bunch of homework and textbooks. He also had a few magazines that Bobby knew for a fact were not age appropriate. He noticed a bag of chips and some candy. There was also bandages and antibiotic  ointment. Plus some bottles of bubble-gum flavored medicine. _So the kid was old enough for skin mags but he hadn’t outgrown bubble-gum flavored medicine?_ Bobby noticed he had a toothbrush, toothpaste and a comb for his hair. This kid really comes prepared. Then again, Bobby understood that this was Dean and Sam’s life. They lived out of bags. Everything Dean had in his bag was the only things he actually owned. With that perspective, It was barely anything at all. 

Bobby watched as Dean grabbed some shampoo out of the bag, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and some pajamas. Sliding the shampoo under his chin, Dean had enough room to carry the bubble-gum medicine. 

He went into the bathroom connected to Bobby’s room and set all of his items on the counter. “Hey Sammy! I’m getting mine first is that okay with you?” 

“Yeah,” came the chirpy response, “I’m going to keep reading.” 

Everything seemed to be going fine, so Bobby went back down stairs and turned on the TV. He secretly enjoyed late night television though he would never admit it to anybody. 

After a while, he heard the shower turn off upstairs. Then it started up again. No doubt, Sam was getting washed up. A few minutes later, Dean was walking into the den with a pile of clothes in his hands. 

“Hey Bobby? What do you want me to do with my dirty clothes? I really ganked this tank top. I mean seriously, it’s destroyed.” 

Bobby snorted, “Give it here, I’ll wash it tomorrow. It will need bleached probably.” 

“Um... Bobby, there’s something else.” Dean said. He was shifting nervously on his feet, eager to avoid Bobby’s eyes. 

“Well, What is it?” Bobby’s voice was gentle, encouraging. It surprised Bobby; he didn’t know his voice could be so kind. There was something about Dean and Sam that made Bobby a big old softy. He didn’t understand it, never really would. It couldn’t be fatherly instincts because Bobby wasn’t a father. It sure as hell wasn’t learned from his own father. He never spoke to Bobby in such a kind manner. Bobby only learned about screaming and pain from his own father. Now, he lives a lonely life of hunting. The only friends he had were the few hunters that swapped stories with him when they got drunk. So where his kind streak came from, Bobby had no idea. He really wasn’t the fatherly type. 

“Nothing much.” Dean whispered, “Just... it’s... the medicine we have to take for our chest infection is oral. So that’s easy, but Dad said our doctor told him we need a drug that prevents nausea and vomiting cause we’re still recovering and it’s a... well it’s a shot.” Dean finally spat out. He looked deeply perplexed so Bobby was happy to cut him off. 

“That’s no problem, Dean. I can give it to you if that’s what you want.” Once again, he had no idea where his gentle voice came from. 

“Can you give it to Sammy too. I really hate needles.”

“Do you now?” Bobby said with a small chuckle. “And here I was thinking there’s nothing Dean Winchester was afraid of.”

“Shut up.” Dean whined, ducking away from Bobby’s hand. He was going to rub the boy’s neck, but Dean wasn’t having that physical affection. Why did Bobby try to show affection anyway? It wasn’t normal for the hunter. Dean supposed he was simply amused. 

Upstairs, Sam walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. A trick he learned from his big brother. 

“Oh, hi Uncle Bobby.” Sam said. He looked nervously from Bobby to Dean. “What’s wrong? Why are you up here.” 

“Wow Sammy,” Dean said, voice cracking slightly, “a man can’t come upstairs in his own house? What kind of world do we live in?” 

Sam shook his head. He knew something was wrong because he knew Dean. He knew his big brother was nervous and trying to avoid something by the way he was shifting around like he had ants in his pants. 

Sam gulped as Bobby approached him. “We’re not in trouble, are we?” the younger boy asked, backing up slowly, hands going behind him. 

“No.” Bobby stopped walking abruptly, “Why  on earth would you think that? You idjits didn’t break nothing did you?” 

Sam’s eyes grew wide, “No sir.” He turned his eyes over to Dean, silently asking his brother if he broke something. Dean shook his head and Sam nodded. “We didn’t break anything, sir.” 

It was Dean’s turn to walk over to Sam, and throw an arm around his shoulders. “Nothing to worry about, Sammy. We’re not in any trouble. We just need those damn shots.” 

Suddenly it clicked. Sam nodded in understanding and walked over to his duffle bag. “I’ll get dressed, then we can get it over with.” 

Meanwhile, Dean walked into the bathroom and pulled out the needle kit he had placed in the cabinet. He took out the syringe and filled it up with the appropriate amount of medicine. Then he poured a small amount of the bubble-gum syrup medicine into the lid of the bottle and swallowed it back. He refilled the lid then left it on the counter for Sam. Sighing, he walked over to Bobby and handed him the syringe. 

Bobby looked the needle over and cringed. He’s given a few injections before, hell, he’s stitched more cuts than he could count, but he never particularly enjoyed the process. It felt weird. By the look on Dean’s face, he didn’t enjoy receiving it either. 

Sitting on the bed, Dean rolled up his short sleeve and squeezed his eyes shut. Bobby got the message and quickly injected the needle in Dean’s upper arm. The boy made a pained expression, but it faded quickly. Another thing that faded was the color on Dean’s lightly freckled face. He was growing paler by the second, making the freckles stand out drastically against the pale skin. 

“You alright kid?”

“Yep. Fine. I just need to lay down for a second.” 

“He doesn’t like needles.” Sam whispered as he took his brother’s place. He handed Bobby the cotton of alcohol. While he was rolling up his sleeve, Bobby wiped the needle down with the alcohol. He proceeded to wipe Sam’s arm before injecting the needle. Other than a small hitch in breathing, Sam seemed fine. 

Dean was doing better as well. The color had returned to his cheeks, in fact he looked a little more rosy red than normal. “Sammy take your cough medicine.” He said, leaning back against the bed frame. “Thanks Uncle Bobby.” 

Bobby smiled at the boys. He took Sam’s dirty clothes down to the washing machine and put a load in. It would save John from having to pay money at the laundromat this week, Bobby thought to himself. John owes him. 

The next morning, Bobby was preparing for a hunt. He expected Dean to want to tag along, but Bobby didn’t think it was a good idea. Even if John is right and Dean is growing into a good hunter, he is still only thirteen-years-old. He should be doing fun crap, not looking to a fight an evil creature that will likely end him in some hospital. 

No, Bobby wasn’t going to let Dean come. He wanted to let the boy work on the cars in his junk yard. Dean loved cars like he loved pie. It was probably one of his favorite things in the world. So Bobby convinced him to stay there and fix the vehicles. Sam was happy to continue reading and studying for an upcoming exam in school. 

“Radios is mostly in the cars, boy. You just gotta start lookin’. You got tools?” Bobby asked as he headed out. 

“Yeah, all I have to do is find the right car.” Dean said. 

He was on his own in a 10-acre car burial ground looking for a model like Bobby’s with a working radio. Of course, even if Dean located it he wouldn’t know whether it worked until he installed it. Pressing onward, Dean walked for nearly an hour and found every car made in South Dakota and Detroit except a Mercury. Bobby always had something to say about such searches: “You will always find something in the last place you look.”

Bobby was correct. There she was—a 1951 Mercury with an untouched dashboard—near a fence bordering woods. Squeezing upside down on the torn front seat and placing his head under the cracked steering wheel, Dean was greeted by the musty aroma of water-soaked carpet ripe with mildew and mold. His knuckles took a beating—and were sliced and diced by sharp metal—as Dean brutalized rusted fasteners with wrenches and screwdrivers, all the while holding a flashlight with almost-depleted batteries.

Bobby also has another saying that applied: “Mother Nature is a bitch.”

Damn if there weren’t ants—the biting variety—in the carpet. They disliked Dean but they liked his flesh.

Working feverishly, Dean was exhilarated—despite now having severe neck pains and ant bites on his arms and hands—when the radio finally dropped from its deeply-recessed home. The ant bites must have numbed Dean’s brain because he had a sudden inspiration. Why not pull a rear speaker from another car and create a stereophonic sound in this old Mercury?

Dean located a 1950s Cadillac with rear speaker and spent 15 minutes emptying its massive trunk of tires, wheels, empty oil cans and other debris. Once again, it was neck-breaking work as he slithered on his back into the dark trunk. It didn’t take long to pull the speaker and haul it, along with the Mercury radio, to the junkyard office. “Where’d you get that big speaker?” Bobby asked when he had returned from the hunt. “It ain’t from a Mercury, is it?”

“No, sir, it’s from a Cadillac,” Dean responded…stupidly. He knew in an instant he shouldn’t have said “Cadillac.”

“You wasted a perfectly good Cadillac speaker.” 

“I’m making a better vehicle Bobby, calm down.” 

“Don’t tell me to calm down, boy.” Bobby yelled, his eyes getting all dark and enraged. 

“So How was the hunt?” Dean quickly asked, trying to defer the situation. 

Bobby huffed, “it went fine. Could’ve gone better, but I got the sonuvabitch.” 

“Could’ve gone better if I was there.” Dean smirked. Bobby walked away muttering some curse words and obscenities. 

More neck pain followed—when Dean installed everything. Lo and behold, the radio and rear speaker worked. The Mercury  was now one of the few cars in the junk yard with stereophonic sound. 

Later that night, Sam was slipping into his white pajama t-shirt and black checkered pants. He pushed his shaggy brown hair away from his eyes and pulled back the covers. 

“Hey Dean,” he called to his brother, who was currently brushing his teeth in the bathroom. Dean slept in black boxers and a black t-shirt, so it was no surprise to Sam when his brother stood at the bathroom door in his underwear. 

“What?” He asked with a mouth full of toothpaste. 

“Do you think Dad will be coming home soon?” Sam asked. 

Dean took a second to think and to spit his toothpaste in the sink. “Depends. If he really did find information about Mom’s killer he probably won’t be back for a while. But if it was a trap, he should be home soon.”

“Unless he can’t save himself.” 

“Shut up, Sam!” Dean shouted a mix of rage and fear. He stomped towards the door. 

“Oh come on Dean! Why do you always run away every time I say something that pisses you off.” 

“Why do you have to say crap like that! Dad will be fine! He’s DAD.” 

Sam shrugged. It was obvious to him that his father was not perfect. But if he wants Dean to head back to bed instead of fuming all night he needs to be wise with his words. 

“You’re right.” Sam decided this was the best thing to say. “Dad is the best. There’s no way anything can get him.” 

Dean sighed, but made his way over to the bed. He crawled under the covers but left the lamp light on. “We can’t think about what can go wrong. We have to believe Dad will be fine. Because that’s all we can do. And I hate it. Why do you think I wanted to go on the hunt so badly. I want to make sure Dad is safe. But he wouldn’t let me. So now we have to hope he can take care of himself.” 

Sam nodded silently, though his eyes still held unexpressed fears and worries. Dean reached behind him, grabbed and pillow then whapped Sam upside the head. 

“Dean!” Sam giggled, reaching for his own pillow. They began wrestling on the bed, pushing faces into comforters, and beating the crap out of each other with pillows. 

Sam tossed a pillow at Dean, but Dean ducked away and it slammed against the nightstand, knocking the lamp over. Dean jolted upward at the almighty crash, only to accidentally kick the bedside table over spilling everything on top of it including a glass of water which was now soaking quickly into the carpet. 

The bedroom door flung open and Bobby stood with a gun in his hand. Upon witnessing the two startled faces, Bobby lowered his weapon and took in the scene. 

“What in blue blazes is happening?”

“We’re so sorry Uncle Bobby.” Sam said immediately. He threw his little hands out when Bobby stepped closer to them. “We didn’t mean to knock anything over. It was an accident.”

“We were wrestling.” Dean clarified, “and it kinda got out of hand.” He was trying to read the look on Bobby’s face, but he couldn’t decide if Bobby was so angry he was calm, or If he was processing the situation, or if he was ready to call John on the phone and kick them out. 

Unsure of which mood the hunter was in, Dean played it safe. “But we’ll clean it up, won’t we Sammy?”  

Sam nodded so fast he looked like a bobble head. “Yeah. We know how to clean up our messes.” 

There was a pause filled with uneasy tension. Bobby took another step in the room, this time surveying the damage. “I’m gonna have to buy a new nightstand.” 

“We’re sorry.” Sam cried, tears forming in his warm hazel green eyes, “We know sorry doesn’t pay the bills!” He wailed, and Dean pulled him to his chest, rubbing his back soothingly. 

“What is he crying about?” Bobby asked. Dean thought it was strange because Bobby looked worried. As if he didn’t know. 

“Nothing sir. He...uh... feels bad. I guess. Dad would’ve.. Are you gonna... you know...” Dean trailed off, looking at a spot on the carpet. He really didn’t want to see Bobby’s face. Not when the man was about to announce he was tanning them. 

“I don’t have the foggiest idea what you’re trying to get at boy, but if you want to help, go grab a damn broom.” 

Sam removed his face from Dean’s chest. He put his teary eyes on Bobby. “Seriously? You’re not mad?” 

Then it clicked. Bobby’s eyes lit up like a lightbulb. “Oh that’s what you’re wailing on about.” 

Dean gulped, “It’s just, Dad would’ve been mad. He would’ve...” 

“I ain’t your Daddy. Luckily. And trust me, I bless everyday that I’m not.” Bobby said with a small grin tugging at his lips. “So I’m not doing whatever it is you think your daddy would do. I just want the glass picked up before one of you two idjits cut yourselves. So get to It.” 

Dean and Sam ran out of the room to find a broom. It took a total of thirty minutes to clean up the mess and get the broken table outside to the trash can. Once they were back inside, Dean and Sam hopped in bed and Bobby went back to his research. He loved doing research. In fact he wanted to be as thorough as possible, making sure he had a lot of information so that he could develop the best plan of attack. Bobby also had to maintain the phone lines. Oftentimes a hunter’s cover will be questioned and Bobby has to assure the police or witnesses that his hunter’s are the real-deal. Even though, they aren’t. Bobby heard a loud shrill from upstairs and sighed. John Winchester certainly had his work cut out for him with those rowdy boys. Leaning back, Bobby listened to the kids screaming from upstairs. 

“ _Deeean_! I want that pillow! It’s from  _my_  bed, so give it back!”

“No way, it’s mine. Grab another one.” 

Bobby chuckled to himself as he poured some bourbon. He threw his legs up on the table, tossing his drink back then licking his lips with delight. 

“I want to watch TV.” Sam’s high pitched voice cracked. 

“Too bad.” Dean yelled. Bobby heard the familiar sound of a pillow hitting something. Patiently he listened to the boys squabble. At least they were acting like typical kids for once. It soothed Bobby to know that those boys could be just boys for a few days while their Daddy was out God knows where. 

“We can’t watch TV. Twerp!” Dean’s loud voice interjected through the wrestling sounds. “The cable box is downstairs and Uncle Bobby is down there.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot.” 

Bobby snorted. Poor Sammy, he always lost battles to his older brother. He could imagine Dean sitting on top of him right now.  But, Sam is smart. Sometimes he can fool Dean. The only problem is Dean’s smart too. He doesn’t fool easily. 

“Hey, I know what we can do.” Dean said. Bobby could hear the mischievousness tone, he could visualize the glint in Dean’s eye. That boy was about to make a fools move, that’s for sure. 

Suddenly, things were too quiet. Bobby knew in the pit of his gut that he should get up and see what was going on, but part of himself thought maybe he was over-reacting. What bad thing could John Winchester’s kids possibly do. At that thought, he stood up from his chair and made a b-line for the staircase. That’s when he caught sight of two sets of bare feet running up the stairs as if their lives depended on it. How the hell they snuck downstairs in such a short period of time was unknown, but Bobby was impressed. 

He opened the bedroom door ready to scold them, but he stilled when he saw Dean and Sam spread out with a deck of cards on the bed. 

They both looked up at him, but said nothing. They were hiding something, Bobby figured. Because whenever Dean isn’t running his mouth, he’s hiding something. Also, Sam would have greeted him by now, but instead the boy was giving Bobby his deer-in-the-headlights look. 

“What’s going on?” Bobby asked. 

Dean cracked a grin, “we’re playing cards. I’m teaching Sammy how to play the five card draw.”

“I see.” Bobby walked into the room, eyes searching around for something else to be broken. 

“Um, Bobby? Is everything all right?” Dean asked. 

“Yeah. Why? Is there a reason something shouldn’t be?” 

“Nooo.” Dean drew out the word. 

“Did you lose something?” Sam asked. Bobby glanced up from looking under the bed. “No. Did you?” 

Sam’s face contorted with confusion. “No, not that I know of.” 

Bobby nodded, feeing awkward now. He knew he was overreacting. Still he was curious as to why the boys were downstairs. He watched Dean deal out five cards for Sam and five for himself. Obviously the game was just starting. 

Bobby had an idea. He left the room telling the boys to get back to their game, but he waiting outside their door to eavesdrop. 

He felt like an ass spying on a couple of kids, but he wanted to know what they were hiding. 

“Fifty bucks says I win.” Dean said.

 Where did he get fifty dollars? Bobby shook his head. That boy better have saved that cash. If he stole it, Bobby would have to tell John. 

“Two silver bullets says you’re wrong.” Sam said but surely Bobby didn’t hear him right. Silver bullets? Where did he find silver bullets? Naturally, John probably kept silver bullets around, but why was Sam carrying them in his duffle bag? 

“All right wise guy. I’ll add two silver bullets of my own plus a steel knife.” 

“I’ll match you.” Sam said. Bobby listened to the boys discard certain cards and draw new ones. 

“Come on, please be good.” Sam whispered. 

“Yes!” Dean shouted. Then, after drawing the second card, “Damnit! No!” 

Sam’s childish giggling lit up the entire room. 

“You sound like a freaking girl!” Dean shouted. “All right all right, let’s see what you have. I have an Ace so I’m out.”

“Check it, three sixes!” Sam boasted. 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just take the money, would you.” 

“You have to drink it.” Sam said, a hint of childish excitement hidden in his voice. 

“Happily.” Dean snapped. 

All Bobby could think is ‘what the hell are these idjits doing?’ 

“Did it taste good?” 

“Strong.” Dean said, smacking his lips together. “Not bad. You should try some, Sammy.” 

Dean held out the bottle and Sam hesitantly wrapped his lips around it. And that’s how Bobby found them. Sitting together with a pile of Bobby’s weapons on the bed, along with big wads of money and Dean handing a beer to his younger brother who was two seconds away from guzzling it. 

“What the hell are you two doin’?” 

“Bobby!” They both exclaimed, fear-stricken. Sam shoved Dean’s arm away, as if he weren’t just about to sip the beer and it was Dean’s fault for forcing him. 

The beer bottle that Dean was holding fizzled when Sam pushed it away and it was now dripping onto his bed. Dean glowered at his brother, shooting him a look that could kill. But It didn’t compare to the look on Bobby’s face. 

Sam winced, scooting off the bed. “We can clean the sheets too.” He half-heartedly smiled. 

“Did you steal my weapons?”

“No sir! We we’re going to give them back. We we’re just...borrowing them?” Dean finished lamely. He knew he was screwed. He’d be lucky if Bobby didn’t strangle him let alone beat him. “Sorry.” He whispered. 

Sam subconsciously shifted so he was directly behind Dean. Even though Dean was partly the reason he was in big trouble, it still made him feel better standing next to his big brother. 

Bobby’s vexed expression vanished. It was replaced by radiant laugh. His laugh was like thunder; it was a low, rumbling boom. 

“You’re not mad?” Sam asked. He yelped as Dean swatted him in the arm. Glaring back at his brother, Sam nodded, letting Dean know he understood his silent plea of Don’t push it. They were already running their luck. 

“You little idjits mean to tell me you actually took my things and gambled them in a card game? Wow. Creative I must say. Well, sit down and scoot over.” 

Sam and Dean shared a look. “Why?” Dean asked quietly. “What are you gonna do?”

“I need to win my stuff back, don’t I?” 

A small smile broke out on Dean’s face. Bobby Singer was a cool dude in his book. 

“But the sheets are covered in beer.”

“We’ll strip the sheets after we play. Come on, I haven’t played a good game of cards in years.”

Sam giggled, “then you better watch out. Dean’s an expert.”

“Oh is that so?” 

“Yep. I’m pretty freaking good.” 

“We’ll just see about that, boy.” 

Dean convinced Bobby and Sam to play at least three games. He ended up winning all of them. After the last play, Bobby picked Dean up and tossed him down on the bed in a fake wrestling move. 

Dean gasped in a fit of laughter. “Oh God.” He rolled over just in time to avoid a pillow to the face. 

“Come on, Sammy. Help me out. Get that little cheat you call your brother.” 

“Hey.” Dean exclaimed, ducking away from on coming pillows. “I won fair and square.”

“There ain’t nothing fair about you, son.” 

Sammy smacked Dean right in the face with a pillow, knocking his brother off the bed. Sam lunged on top of him, knocking the air out of Dean’s lungs. 

“Jesus Christ!” Dean shouted, shoving Sam over and pounding him with his pillow. 

“Dean! Let me up!” Sam cried. “Uncle Bobby, help!” 

Bobby easily scooped Dean up, off of Sam, and threw him back on the bed. This time he proceeded to tickle the boy, eliciting immense amounts of laughter.  

“Bobby stop please.” Dean said. “I can’t breathe!” 

“Me next!” Sam shouted. Bobby quickly scooped Sam up and tossed him on the bed just like he did with Dean. 

While Bobby was tickling Sam, he was silently thankful that he lives in an isolated junkyard, a little ways away from people, or else his neighbors would think he was killing Sam. 

The boy was laughing so hard it sounded like sobs. He was also screaming for Bobby to stop, but he didn’t really want him to stop. In fact, every time Bobby was ready to call it quits, Sam was begging for more. 

“You two need to go to sleep.” Bobby scolded, finally adding a little authoritarianism to his voice. 

“No! please keep wrestling!” Sam said. 

“Come on, Sammy, it’s late.” Dean was the one who insisted this time. At least he could pick up on Bobby’s authority. 

“Aw come on, Dean.” Sam gave his brother those adorable puppy dog eyes and Dean wavered. 

“Can we wrestle a little while longer?” He asked Bobby. 

“Sorry Dean. It’s late and I really gotta get back to my research.”

“What are you working on?” Dean asked, excitement in his voice. Sam on the other hand groaned loudly. 

“None of your business. Now strip the sheets and get back into the shower. You two smell a mix of beer and sweat.”

Bobby woke up the next morning feeling exhausted. He swears he pulled a muscle from wrestling the boys last night. As soon as he finished setting the table there was a knock on his door. 

“John. You’re back so soon?” 

“It’s what I thought it was.” John sighed, storming into the house, “a freaking trap. I’m so glad I didn’t bring Dean along. I can’t imagine how much worse it would’ve been if he were with me.”

“I see you took quite the beating.” Bobby noted. John’s arms were cut up, and his shirt was torn in many different places. 

“Wendigo?” 

“Yeah. It got me in a few places.” John muttered. “Where are the boys. We need to get going.”

“Where to?” 

“Siren in Nebraska.” 

“How’d you find a hunt so fast?” 

John shrugged. “Boys! Get your asses down here! We need to go.” 

“Relax John, they probably just woke up.” Bobby said. 

“We need to go. I was suppose to investigate this case before I went on this waste-of-my-time hunt. I’m lucky if the son of a bitch is still there.” He slammed his broken hand on the wall. “Where the hell are they? I’m gonna kick their asses!” 

“Why don’t you let me patch you up?” Bobby suggested, noticing the blood drip on his floor. 

“No time, Bobby.” John snapped, “Boys! Let’s go! Don’t make me call you again.” 

“Two minutes,” Dean said from the top of the stairs, “Please sir, we have to pack.”

“You shouldn’t have unpacked.” 

“Come on, John. You spared enough time to come out here and it’s gonna take your boys at least a minute or two to get ready. Take some time to care for yourself.” 

John growled but complied. After cleaning his cuts, John was upstairs, packing some of his boys things. 

“Hi Dad.” Sam greeted, nervously shifting around him. He wanted to hug his father tightly, but he seemed to be in a mood. 

“How was the hunt, sir?” 

“It was fine, Dean. But nothing you missed out on.” John said. “Now let’s go. You can help me with this next case.” 

Dean’s smile lit up the room. He and Sam hurried to the impala, leaving Bobby alone in a big quiet house. _It only hurts a little,_ Bobby thought to himself. 


	2. Chapter 2

I don’t know if you guys have seen this picture before, I personally just found it online today, and I don’t know who made it. But heck YES! This is little Dean Winchester in the flesh!!! This is how I picture him I swear. I want to kiss the person that made this. I needed to see this. And now I want to adopt him.

 

Anyway, I thought you might like to see it too that way you could have an image in your head when you read my stories. Now I just need to find one of Sammy. :) 

 

 

https://instagram.com/p/BpAsDDWnP64/


End file.
